


the sun came crashing in

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, Full Moon, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Morning After, Past Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Past Relationship(s), Stackson Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the first full moon after Stiles and Derek broke up when Jackson manages to step into the hole Derek left in Stiles's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sun came crashing in

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Stackson Week and posted to tumblr. I heard the American Author's "Best Day of My Life" on the way into work and got this idea from the line that is the title of the song. And of course, as always I do not own the world, nor characters, of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

“Dude, are you sure you want to do this?” 

“Scotty, I am going to be just fine.” Stiles claps his best friend on the shoulder, tries not to look at the rest of the pack as they gather in the preserve, but he really can’t avoid it. At least Derek is already transformed into a full wolf, his expression unreadable. The rest are in various stages of undress, making themselves comfortable as the full moon washes over them. Even Lydia has comfortable, old sneakers instead of heels, standing with one hand tangled in Malia’s ruff.

They’re an odd pack, Stiles knows. He _should_ know. He’s been trying to help Scott lead them for years now, trying to deal with the aftermath of so damned many things. Isaac’s back from France, and Jackson’s back from London. Lydia’s dating Malia, and Jackson doesn’t seem to care. Kira’s still with Scott, a quietly electric, energizing companion, and no less klutzy than she ever was. They’ve had Liam as a wolf for three years now, and his best friend Mason has yet to turn. There’s Brett, who shifted his allegiance from Satomi to Scott when he started dating Mason two years ago. Danny’s still human, but Ethan has returned, living on the outskirts of the pack but still involved. And of course, Derek swore allegiance to Scott, becoming his trusted second.

His wolfly second. Like Stiles was his human second.

It only made sense when the tension between Derek and Stiles exploded into a rough sex friends with benefits relationship.

It also made sense when it failed, epicly, leaving Stiles shaken in the aftermath and trying to stay steady for Scott’s benefit.

This is the first full moon since the final explosions faded, the first time he’s run with the wolves since he and Derek _stopped_ being whatever they briefly were.

Stiles inhales roughly, feels the energy washing through the pack as the moon shivers through their bodies. “It’s time,” he says quietly. “Let’s run.”

#

Stiles always gets high on the full moon. Not that he smokes, or injects, or otherwise puts anything into his system. It’s just the feel of the pack and the energy that rides him. There are times when he wonders if he is something more to the pack than just a human, and other times when he wisely decides not to open that door in his mind again, afraid of what could slip through.

But it still gets him high, when they run as wolves and betas, when they howl in the bright moonlight.

It’s a rush, his heart hammering and body singing at the end of the run, with the moon still high in the sky. He falls to the ground and stares up at the stars overhead, barely noticing another body hit the ground beside him.

“So, you and Derek.” Jackson’s voice is snide to Stiles’s ears, and he bristles in response.

“Me and Derek and not anymore,” he says flatly. “So what, asshole?”

“This.” Jackson rolls up and over him, one hand on either side of his shoulders. He hovers there for a moment, and Stiles can see the outline of his muscles shining in the darkness, the moon giving edges and definition. Jackson waits, and when Stiles doesn’t move, he dips in, brushes his lips across Stiles’s.

It’s like electricity, locking in on the energy that is already bottled up inside of him, flooding out when Stiles tangles his fingers in Jackson’s hair, pulls him back even closer and swallows his kiss all over again. Someone moans; he doesn’t care who.

All he cares about is the way his skin feels as claws skate over him, the strange gentleness of teeth against his throat. All he cares about is losing his clothing, feeling the warmth of a body that wants him, that needs him, that cries out when he touches him.

They lose themselves in the moonlight, howling pleasure into the air.

#

Stiles has no memory of walking to the Jeep, but he finds himself there in the morning, curled into the passenger seat which is leaning back as far as it goes. He is wearing boxers and nothing more, and there are leaves in his hair.

He remembers what he did, and who he was with.

He wonders if Jackson regrets it, since he’s alone now.

In the bright, sharp light of day, it seems awkward and strange and unexpected. Weird. A little like a dream, and he might wonder if that’s all it was if he didn’t have the marks along his neck to prove that he was with _someone_ and he didn’t just jerk himself off in his sleep.

He climbs out of the Jeep and searches around, finding his jeans and his t-shirt, but his shoes seem to be missing. It doesn’t matter, he can drive barefoot and he does, heading back to his apartment and waving at Scott who is sitting on the couch. “Not with Kira?” Stiles asks.

“Dropped her off.” Scott watches as Stiles strips his shirt off in the bathroom, and Stiles can imagine the disapproving look. “Did you get back together with Derek? Dude, that’s not…”

“It wasn’t Derek.” Stiles yanks his jeans and boxers down, steps into the shower. He doesn’t want to talk about. If Jackson’s going to ignore it, Stiles can ignore it too.

#

When he comes out of the bathroom, his skin is reddened, fresh-scrubbed and warm. He doesn’t put back on the dirty clothing, just wrapping the towel around his waist and holding it loosely.

Maybe that’s a mistake, because Jackson is sitting on the couch.

Shit.

Stiles walks past him, into his room and dropping the towel on his way. It’s not like Jackson didn’t get up close and personal with his ass already, after all.

“I was coming back.” Jackson leans in his doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “You took off. I had to wait through a line at the fucking Starbucks because apparently the morning after the full moon means every single kid in this town is slightly hungover and desperate for a latte.” He holds out a cup that has Stiles written on the side. “She knows your usual.”

Stiles manages to get a clean pair of boxers on before he turns around. “You went to the one over by the campus? There are three others closer to the preserve.”

Jackson shrugs. “Like I said, she knew your usual.”

He took the time to go to the one place he could get Stiles the _right_ coffee. It’s not just _any_ post full moon coffee, it’s _Stiles’s_ coffee.

He sets the cup down on the bureau and sits down on the bed. “Um.” He doesn’t know what to say because that _one gesture_ is more than Derek ever showed him in the few months of whatever they were.

“It’s just coffee.” Jackson straightens up, his tone sharp. “It’s not like it’s a declaration of love, Stilinski. Just drink the coffee and go on with life.”

“Blow me.” The words slip out, and Stiles isn’t sure if he means them as an insult or a request, because it doesn’t matter anymore when Jackson is on his knees between Stiles’s thighs, nosing at his crotch like Stiles has hidden the best of scents inside his boxers. Stiles inhales roughly, grips Jackson’s hair and hears a whine.

It’s not like coffee is a declaration of love, except sometimes _it is_.

“Me too,” he whispers, as Jackson swallows him down. “Whatever this is, I’m willing to try it—oh, _fuck_ , Jackson.”

They never do make it to classes that day.

#

Stiles says _I love you_ with the way he kisses under the light of the moon, with the way he gives himself wholeheartedly in the middle of the night.

Jackson says _I love you_ when the sun comes crashing in and he brings back the perfect coffee, the perfect breakfast, makes it the perfect morning.

They don’t say the words—they don’t need to. It’s always understood.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com/post/101852494567/the-sun-came-crashing-in). You can [visit me](http://tryslora.tumblr.com) there and say hello!


End file.
